


of numb fingers and toes

by taeminki



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, ignore the pairings tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 13:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11185644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeminki/pseuds/taeminki
Summary: yoonoh waits and waits for a phone call that never comes





	of numb fingers and toes

**Author's Note:**

> ♪ back to you -nct  
> why am i the worst  
> 

Late at night,  
Yoonoh picked up his phone and dialed a number he knew better than that back of his hand. Ten digits-- eleven when he wanted to shoot the number a message. That was not his plan tonight; he didn't need the extra **1**  to make a message plausible. He just needed those ten numbers-- that odd mix of ten numbers that led him right to a ringing phone. Ring, ring, ring... and, once again, it refused to work. The call just wouldn't go through; Yoonoh just couldn't reach him. Him, him-- Ji Hansol. Yoonoh could never reach him.

Now that Yoonoh had time to think about it,  
Ji Hansol was never really within reach. Even when he was three feet away, Yoonoh could reach out, but never touch him. No one could, because Hansol was not a touchable person. He was not a reachable person. He didn't answer his phone, and he didn't fall in love. He was not reachable, and he was not touchable.

In the morning,  
Jung Yoonoh rolled onto his side and reached for his phone. Again, he typed in those same numbers, and his phone asked _Ji Hansol ♡?_   The heart mocked him. Yoonoh almost wanted to delete it, but more than anything he wanted to leave Hansol's contact name untouched. Hansol had set it that way himself, after all. Who was Yoonoh to change it? Who was Yoonoh to wish that heart would go away as he stared at Hansol's contact name-- the ringing, ringing, ringing of his phone taunting the back of his mind.

 

That night,  
Lee Taeyong stretched his legs as his name was finally called. He was finally free, he thought; his legs were leading him to a life of less worry. He handed his phone to the woman that would assist him and smiled at her, wished she had a good night. Busy, she told Taeyong; and Taeyong wished he could agree. If so, he could say he'd finally finished his project for work instead of dragging himself to an Apple store... but he really, _really_  needed his number changed. He needed that number to stop calling him-- that mix of numbers that Taeyong knew so well. They taunted him; they messaged him and called him and they wouldn't leave him alone. Taeyong had had enough.

After hours in the Apple store,  
Taeyong walked away a free man. His phone felt lighter in his hand; his head felt free of aches. He had already written down every number he needed to keep; he was going to go home and put them all in his phone, message each one and tell them _this is my new number_. Some of his friends would congratulate him-- _finally, you got rid of that bastard_. His parents would be confused-- _why did you get a new number, sweetie?_  and a call, his dad's gruff voice telling him "You know I hate phone calls--" but he would be happy for Taeyong nonetheless -- because finally -- finally! -- Taeyong felt like he could breathe again.

 

That night,  
Yoonoh called that number again. Again, he called, and he wished for something. He wished for an answer, for a _Why do you call me so much, silly?_  text. He wished for something, anything -- and that night, that strange, _strange_  night, he got something. His phone stopped ringing after a few familiar rings, and a voice flooded through on speaker, "How the hell did you get this number?" The voice was oddly hysterical, somewhat angry but somewhat scared. Yoonoh didn't know what to say. That wasn't Hansol-- that was _not_  Ji Hansol. Who had stolen Hansol's phone? _Who had done this to him?_

 

After a few moments of silence,  
Taeyong was ready to lose his mind. He'd just changed his number-- _just!_  He was barely getting home; he had barely put his mom's number in his phone and sent her a message. He had barely gotten his dad's number in; he was expecting a call soon, really. But he got a call from an unknown number-- a set of numbers that Taeyong didn't even take the time to recognize. He'd just set himself free, and he was trying to take it again. Again-- again! Taeyong couldn't believe this. His throat stung with anger; his eyes stung with tears; he couldn't take this. He couldn't take this. He couldn't sit back and take this--

 

When he'd had some time to think,  
Yoonoh stuttered out an answer, "I-- I-- what the hell are you doing with Hansol's phone?" His voice resembled that of the man on the other line-- angry but on the brink of breaking down. Yoonoh wondered for a second if that man had his story, too. It sure as hell sounded like it.

 

Taking in the voice on the other line,  
Taeyong realized it wasn't the man he thought it was. It was someone else entirely-- someone that sounded angry, like he was going to break down any second. _Kind of like me_ , Taeyong thought, but he was calm now. He could breathe; it wasn't _him_ , it was someone else. Taeyong was still free. He was still free; he was okay. He could breathe; he could talk, "My-- I just changed my number today, I-- I don't know who Hansol is--"

 

Sucking in a breath,  
Yoonoh understood. It wasn't Hansol at all; that much had been obvious, but it wasn't Hansol's phone, either. This man had no connection with Hansol at all, which meant he couldn't tell Yoonoh anything-- where Hansol was, when he was coming home. Hansol's phone had been disconnected. His number had been inactive for too long. It had been almost a year, hadn't it? He was gone. Yoonoh wondered why the hell his phone still rang.

 

After some prolonged silence,  
Taeyong was starting to feel uncomfortable. The man on the other line had been silent for much too long. The only reason Taeyong even knew he was still there was because of his breathing-- heavy and unsteady, like his heart was racing and he needed to catch his breath. Taeyong quietly waited, and, finally, asked, "Are you okay?"

 

Although he had had time to think about it before,  
Yoonoh suddenly realized he wasn't okay. He had been calling a dead number for much too long; he had been angry for much too long; he had been pining for much too long. This was all his fault anyway, wasn't it? Hansol was depressed when he left; he was ignored and unloved and he wasn't coming back. Yoonoh knew it. He would never have Hansol, but he could have at least loved him. He didn't have to push him away; he didn't have to act like a baby and deny his feelings so much that it felt more necessary to push him away. Look where that had gotten him-- angry and bitter and spitting back at the unknown man, just because he felt interrogated, "Are _you?_ "

 

Although he had had time to think about it before,  
Taeyong suddenly realized he wasn't okay. He had been running away from a prison of a man for much too long; he had been scared for much too long; he had been running for much too long. This was all his fault anyway, wasn't it? Youngho had always been an angry man; he had issues of the sort and abuse in his past. Taeyong knew it. Taeyong would never change Youngho, and he could have stayed away. He didn't have to fall into his trap; he didn't have to feel bad just because Youngho begged for Taeyong's love, telling him he would never have anyone else. Look where that had gotten him-- crying over the phone with a stranger, just because of one question, "N-no."

 

At a loss for words,  
Yoonoh almost hung up on the sobbing man. He pulled his phone away from his ear, having taken it off speaker phone ages ago-- when he had done that? His thumb hovered over the big red, round button, and he almost, almost ended the call, but he stopped. He stopped to think, to assess himself for a moment, because he suddenly realized that he was crying, too, and his head was starting to hurt from the reality check thrown his way. He would never have Ji Hansol. He would never see Ji Hansol again. Fourteen years of being in love with him, and for what? For this heartbreak-- for this off-the-wall behavior, throwing his life away for phone call after phone call, bringing one particular answered call to his ear and sobbing right back at a sobbing man, "W-- well, I don't think I am, either."

 

Unsure of what to do or say,  
Taeyong decided to stay silent. He was quiet with the man for a long time-- quiet and accepting and just sobbing and sobbing. Eventually, the man hung up-- a sharp _click_ that broke through Taeyong's sobs. His father called a moment later, and Taeyong answered shakily, "H--hello?" and his father grumbled about calling him a million times, and Taeyong thought it was no wonder Yoonoh had sounded so broken sometimes. Not only was he; his father's phone call was breaking through their brief, barely-conversation.

Staying silent for the duration of the call,  
Taeyong was able to get away with sobbing. When his father hung up, he went back to his contacts. He added a broken heart to the number that had just called him and reached out for him-- sent him a message of _Do you want to talk about not being okay?_  and wondered if he was overstepping some line, if there was even a close enough proximity for someone to draw a line. He didn't even know the stranger's name, only part of his story. _Ji Hansol_. He seemed to be the reason for all that brokenness; he must have been the holder of Taeyong's number.

For some reason,  
Taeyong felt responsible for the man on the other line, now that Ji Hansol didn't own this number.

Some countless minutes later,  
Taeyong had finished adding his contacts and messaging his friends. He looked to his messages to see some confusion, some congratulations, and one message that stuck out above the rest-- two little words beneath a broken heart.

 

_you first_


End file.
